


Homeward Bound

by ConstanceComment



Series: A Life Still Permanent [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Napping, POV Character of Color, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7431734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstanceComment/pseuds/ConstanceComment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel's learned a lot of things about Jack Morrison since they met. Mostly that he doesn't like being called Jack, and that trolling him is the gift that keeps on giving. He's also learned that Jack can fall asleep anywhere. It's just that staying asleep is usually the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Check the end notes for content warnings.
> 
> This series has a bunch of headcanons and extra material over at my tumblr, and you can find all of it under this tag: [a life still permanent.](http://constancecomment.tumblr.com/tagged/a-life-still-permanent)
> 
> Chronologically, this takes place maybe five or six months before Tango Mike.

Gabriel’s learned a lot of things about Jack Morrison in the year since they met. For one thing, he hates being called Jack. For another, he gets this little twitch over his left eye when he’s pissed off, a break in a demeanor that’s otherwise so bland and neutral that the slip ends up looking like an earthquake. Trolling him has been the gift that keeps on giving, like getting an oyster to produce pearls by blasting it with sand.

Another thing Gabriel’s learned about Jack is that he can fall asleep anywhere. In any situation. There was this one time they were holed up in a foxhole outside of Deadhorse when Gabriel seriously thought he was going to lose a toe to frostbite; Jack had pulled him into their thermal bags and told him to stop bitching, gotten him to tell a story instead. In retrospect, it was a smart move on Jack’s part, to get him ranting about the Twilight movies as opposed to letting Gabriel continue losing his shit about the state of his extremities. It was the type of thing that spoke to Jack’s bizarre talent for people and situations; he doesn’t talk much, and he’s sort of a bland jackass, but he _watches_ a hell of a lot, and understands way more than he lets on.

But the important part of that particular story had been how the minute he must’ve been reasonably sure Gabriel wasn’t going to eel out of the bag and go back to trying to use an emergency flare to warm up his feet, he’d gone out like a light. There hadn’t been a whole lot of space in the bags, and Gabriel had decided to spoon up on Jack because, well, straight boy, close quarters. He’d wanted to see if, that, too, would rile the generally unflappable Jack Morrison. Instead, Jack had apparently decided that if Gabriel was holding onto him, he wouldn’t be able to get away all that easily. And then _bam._ Gabriel hadn’t even figured out that Jack had passed out until he felt his breathing go perfectly slow and even, back rising and falling against Gabriel’s chest.

He’d been a little insulted; he’d worked himself into a good lather over those stupid movies, and he’d expected Morrison to appreciate it, not that Jack actually gives a shit about movies, or culture in general. More importantly, they’d been in the middle of a warzone. A warzone in a blizzard, granted, but a warzone nonetheless. They’d gone into that foxhole in the first place because they might’ve accidentally tripped a perimeter alarm on the Prudhoe Omnium, and Gabriel had called a retreat. He _still_ thinks the rapid onset of that blizzard was the only thing that stopped them from getting shot. There could’ve been omnics walking through Deadhorse right outside the abandoned house they’d holed up in, and yet Jack had just fallen asleep like the whole war was no big deal.

Eventually, Gabriel had moved slightly, and Jack had woken up. Between one breath and the next he was awake, but still perfectly motionless, quiet. It was a bit unnerving; Gabriel knew Jack was weird, and he knows a lot of soldiers who catch sleep wherever they can, but that had been something else, how still he’d been for those first few seconds. Waiting to see if he could trust his surroundings instead of bolting awake like any other startled private caught napping on base. Very carefully, Gabriel had shifted his weight, and Jack had untensed, settling slightly before asking what time it was.

Anyway. Jack Morrison can fall asleep anywhere. Gabriel’s caught him standing up in the middle of a room with his glare-resistant goggles on, supposedly keeping watch of something that didn’t really need watching, actually passed the fuck out in a perfect parade rest. More than once. Gabriel’s also found him folded up under a bench, and on a very memorable occasion, wedged behind the ammo closet with a loaded handgun. Which, really, in comparison to all of that, what’s going on right now shouldn’t be freaking Gabriel out so badly.

Currently, they’re on a train, headed out to LA for leave. Jack had mumbled something earlier in the week about not exactly being welcome at home unless he was going to stay, and like fuck was Gabriel going to let his favorite piece of whitebread go anywhere he wasn’t wanted. Gabriel’s family is pretty used to him bringing home strays due to his high school involvement in the local LGBT scene, and thankfully they’d agreed to help put Jack up until the two of them get deployed again. And, see, none of this would be a problem, except for the fact that Jack’s passed out in his lap, and this is the first time Gabriel’s ever seen Jack fully, deeply asleep. Ever.

Jack falling asleep is usually a ten second affair, in Gabriel’s previous experience. Waking him up takes about one good jostle, or really anyone stepping too close to his hiding spot before his eyes are snapping open and he’s ready to deck somebody. This isn’t that. This is Jack Morrison, _snoring,_ with his face mashed into Gabriel’s thigh. He’s even drooling a little bit.

Gabriel’s a bit afraid to move. It took Jack like half an hour to pass out this time, so slow and quiet that Gabriel had no clue what was going on until Jack had finished slumping over and his face had ended up wedged into Gabriel’s neck, a position that really couldn’t have been comfortable. Then the train had taken a sharp turn, and Jack had nearly been thrown onto the floor. Only quick thinking and good reflexes on Gabriel’s part stopped him from getting fucking brain damage this far from the war. The issue was that there really wasn’t really anywhere else to _put_ Jack, and his chin really is pointy as shit.

Honestly the whole thing is sort of freaking Gabriel out, and Jack already sleeps like a demon is going to possess his body if he’s not on guard. It’s just that Gabriel’s not sure what to _do_ with this new information. He’s pretty sure this turn of events has something to do with it being Jack’s first time on leave after enlisting, but that also doesn’t feel like the entire truth. The first time Gabriel came home, he couldn’t convince his body that things were safe, that Meche or his father going to the bathroom in the middle of the night weren’t threats to his safety. And that was in his childhood home. Even now Gabriel’s got issues with paranoia; he’s positive that every soldier does under all the metric tons of macho.

If you asked Gabriel an hour ago, he’d have said that Jack wouldn’t have been able to sleep on the ride to LA. And yet, a deep snore rumbles out of Morrison’s body that sounds not entirely unlike the train going through a tunnel.

Jack woke up first this morning at the motel, so it’s not like Gabriel can use that for comparison. And they’d never bunked together on base since they were in different units. They’d had to camp out together when they were sniping, sure, but they’d been trading watches then, and that wasn’t exactly conducive to rest.

Gabriel’s still thinking about it when the announcement that they’re about three stops from LA comes over the intercom. People have been getting on and off the train at every stop, and Jack still hasn’t moved, or so much as twitched. The thought occurs to Gabriel that he has no idea how to actually wake Jack up. Usually when Gabriel catches him napping, it’s as simple as throwing something in his general direction, or stepping into his perimeter. This might call for more drastic measures.

Gabriel jabs him in the cheek. His finger sinks down; thanks to Jack’s open mouth, there’s a bit of give in the skin. “Hey,” he says. “Rise and shine, farmer John.”

Jack snores again.

Gabriel frowns. When in doubt, escalate. Probably not the smartest plan, but it keeps working on Jack. Gabriel pokes him in the eye.

Surprisingly, Jack doesn’t recoil. Or tense up at all, actually. Not even that suspicious stillness from Deadhorse. He stays loose. He cracks open the eye Gabriel just poked, blue and bleary, the least alert Gabriel’s ever seen him.

“What?” Jack sounds like he’s been gargling sand. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Gabriel just stares, things starting to fall into place.

Jack hadn’t said yes to the Program until Gabriel said yes. He admitted it last night, when they were lying on the motel floor and talking about their immediate futures. At the time, Jack hadn’t said _why,_ and Gabriel hadn’t asked, even though he’d wanted to.

“Did you just jab me in the _eye?”_ Jack asks, leaning up, rubbing the eye in question.

“You can’t prove shit,” Gabriel says automatically.

He’s glad he didn’t ask, now; Jack keeps so many things so close to his chest, being both ornery _and_ cagey, a truly winning combination. Gabriel doesn’t know if he’d have gotten a straight answer last night. It’s pretty clear to him now, anyway, and he feels like an idiot for not getting it sooner. Jack _trusts him,_ and Gabriel’s pretty sure Jack doesn’t trust anybody. He gives them a chance, but he doesn’t— Jack’s weird about people. He’s naive, yes; he puts up with a lot. But he keeps waiting for for that shoe to drop, tense and quiet, ready for the body blow.

But he trusts Gabriel. Enough to go into the Program. Enough to follow him home. And enough to pass out on public transport so deeply that he could’ve gone and concussed himself. It’s a hell of a thing to realize.

Meanwhile, Jack’s got other priorities. “What the hell, Gabriel?” With one sleep hazy eye, he glares at him, still rubbing the other.

“We’re almost there,” Gabriel says.

This is something Gabriel learned even before he was an officer, back when he was still in high school, passing out fliers and getting into fights over wearing black lipstick and kissing Roy Macías behind the bleachers: when someone puts their faith in you, when they give you something like this, you better not betray it. It _matters,_ even if it doesn’t look like it.

Even if that person doesn’t expect anything in return.

“You can sleep when we get there,” Gabriel tells him. “I mean, after you meet my family, ‘cause I bet you ten dollars Meche’s gonna ask you like a million questions, and mi madre’s gonna wanna know if you have food allergies—”

Jack gives him a weird look, finally pulling his hand down from his eye.

Fuck, he’s rambling. Gabriel gives himself a mental shake; now’s not the time to let on that he figured out that the stone face Jack presents to the world hides a soft gooey center. Which he was already peripherally aware of; hell, Gabriel even knew he was the exception, the person who got under Jack’s skin. He just didn’t really have a clue just how deep that went.

“You alright there?” Jack asks him warily.

“What? I’m fine.”

“‘Cause you only babble like the when you’re freakin’ out,” Jack continues.

“I just—” Gabriel just has to get a grip, is what he has to just. “I just want you to get along with my family,” he says.

Jack almost visibly retreats, drawing his spine up a little straighter. “I ain’t gonna cause problems,” he says.

“I didn’t say you were gonna!” Gabriel swears at himself internally. “They’re gonna like you fine, they’re good people, you’re good people, it’s fine. I just want _you_ to like them.”

Jack blinks. Over the loudspeakers, their destination is announced, and the train begins to slow on the approach into LA. “They made you, didn’t they? Can’t be that bad. You turned out alright, after all.”

“Just ‘alright?’” Gabriel teases him, standing to grab their bags off the overhead rack. “I thought we were buds, sunshine.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “You talk too much,” he says. “But yeah, you’re alright.”

Gabriel’s family is waiting on the platform when they arrive. As predicted, Meche slams Gabriel with a flying tackle that nearly makes him drop his bag, and his mother immediately starts haranguing him about the red shrapnel injury on his jaw in a flurry of Spanish he can tell is leaving Jack confused. Though that might just be the display in general; Gabriel’s father holds out a hand for Jack to shake, and for a second Jack just stares at it, the wheels in his brain almost audibly turning before he grabs on.

“Nice to meet you,” Jack says, stiff and formal, trying to flatten out his accent. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Gabriel’s father smiles at him, and turns the handshake into something warm instead of mechanical. “It’s no problem,” he says. “Gabi talks about you in his letters. This is the least we could do for such a good friend.”

Over Meche’s head, Jack turns that stare on him. He looks slightly wild around the eyes, a bit like he’s just been punched instead of greeted warmly.

“Told you,” Gabriel mouths at him, feeling a grin break out over his face.

Jack shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything, a little twitch at the corner of his mouth that would be a smile on anybody else.

It’s going to be a good summer. Gabriel can already tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Child Abuse: There's nothing explicit, but Jack's got issues with his family, and those issues spill over into other parts of his life. Namely in that he's not super welcome at home.
> 
> Yes, Gabriel does still think Jack is straight. No, he's not right about that.
> 
> The big fic is still not done, but we're getting closer all the time. 8/16 done as of posting.


End file.
